


What’s Buried In The Snow

by Ribbonshalos



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angel!Mercy, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-21 07:36:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17039516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ribbonshalos/pseuds/Ribbonshalos
Summary: Genji doesn’t know how or why he’s waking up in a snow covered forest, but perhaps a stranger can guide him to the answers he must find.





	What’s Buried In The Snow

**Author's Note:**

> I combined a few of the prompts for Gency Week into this fic. This is one of my favorite stories I’ve ever written for Gency and I hope you enjoy it.

Genji sees white. Only white. He blinks, but it remains in his vision. Breathing out, a cold powder fills his mouth. He scrapes more of the substance off of himself while still blinking. Somehow, his body is stretched out on the ground. His fingers keep digging at the substance covering him before white gives away to yellow sun rays and dark green fir trees.

His heartbeat rises as a hand takes his own. Their fingers are warm as he clings to their grasp. A different hand gently cleans the snow off of his face, allowing his vision to be unobscured. Tiny snowflakes stick to his eyelashes as he gazes upwards to the gray, cloudy sky. It’s deciding whether or not to drop more snow.

Sitting up with help, frosty air leaves his mouth as Genji shakes himself free. A deep snow bank nearly buries him were it not for the hand he still grasps. His legs remain hidden under white snow as he finds the person attached to the hand, and then a kind face.

“Hello, Genji,” a woman speaks softly. She kneels beside him, still brushing snow off of his chest and shoulders with gentle, sweeping motions. In only a plain, white dress with long sleeves, she seems unbothered by the cold. A calm demeanor emits from her person, soaking into Genji’s chest. It’s enough enough to keep questions from spilling over his teeth.

“Who are you?” he croaks as if his voice hadn’t been used in days. Embarrassment tugs at his center even though the woman doesn’t smirk or laugh.

She appears as if a part of the snow. Her skin is pale, and a gentle blue paints her irises. Compassion glows in her cheekbones as the slight brush of sorrow dims her light eyelashes. Like handling glass, she takes his arm with both hands and brings him onto his feet. Genji lets her, dazed by everything else. The last of the snow covering him falls away. No longer hidden, he finds only a gray undershirt, an open white shirt and thin pants covering himself. His frosty breaths fill the air as he begins to shiver near violently.

“My name is Mercy,” the woman says kindly. When he looks down to his thin shoes, he finds only her bare feet standing upon the snow.

“Mercy?” he breathes, finding her expression still composed in a soft manner. Bangs of white gold frame half of her face. The rest is gathered into a ponytail consisting of fluffy ends. “What is going on? Aren’t you cold? Where are we?”

“It’s alright, Genji,” she says. “You’re safe here. We seem to be in a snowy forest.”

He wants to shake his head in frustration, for he can see the tall, snow covered needles of the firs, and the blanket of snow surrounding them. The cold seeps into his bones but his chest is still. The woman—Mercy—still holds onto his arm.

“But what is this place?” he asks. He scans in between the trees for buildings or mountains in the distance. The lack of car horns or the multitude of clattering steps from busy people is unnerving. A peaceful quiet is the only thing found among the still snow.

A single spark sets off in his chest. It burns for a painful, fearful moment before it is swiftly snuffed out. Sharply inhaling, Genji almost stumbles. Mercy’s hands slowly slip away from his arm but she steps closer.

“It’s alright, Genji.”

He exhales, blowing cold mist from his chilled lips. The woman stands before him without any worry, save for maybe him.

Her blonde hair almost covers one eye. The urge to reach out and brush it behind her ear makes his fingers curl. Her white dress falls to her ankles. Somehow, her bare feet don’t turn blue with frostbite.

“How do you know my name? Who are you?” his demand borders on panic. He leans away but doesn’t outright step back from her presence. From the quiet around them, he knows he will find no other person out here. The biting cold will make sure of that. Isolation, departing from her, is the last thing he wants.

Mercy maintains a calm essence. Lifting her hands, she conveys how harmless she is. Her blue gaze alone settles his racing thoughts.

“I can’t answer those question yet.” Her apologetic smile is gentle. “You’re safe now. No harm will come upon you here.”

His brow furrows as he regards her steady stance. A lightness and heaviness clashes behind his ribs. The nagging feel of being lost stays in the back of his mind as Mercy stands before him patiently. Nothing concrete is within his grasp except for the woman, who even then, refuses to tell him what is going on.

“Are you going to hurt me?” he blurts out. A moment later, he looks away in shame. Mercy, with her slightly pink cheeks and light filled eyes, doesn’t scoff or laugh.

“No, Genji,” her voice is only reassuring, instead of mocking. “You’re safe here. I’m with you.”

Her satin like voice finally slips in between his ribs. A serenity falls over his heart, settling its racing pace. Yet, the crinkles in his forehead never cease.

“I don’t understand,” he whispers. “What is going on?”

“You must choose where you want to go.”

“Choose?” Genji stares at her open expression. The muted light through the gray clouds falls upon both of them, reinforcing a stillness to the world. Snow surrounds them, chilling the air. “Choose what?”

Mercy sweeps her arm out, gesturing to the whole forest.

“Where do you want to go?” she asks, patiently. Her eyes stay on his confusion with kindness.

“From here?”

She nods. The end of her fluffy ponytail bobs with the motion.

There are only trees. Their voices bounce off the bark and the cold, white covered ground. Is this an endless dream? No, this woman is too detailed to be a part of his dreams. She’s… too good.

There is no reason for why he points forward, past her shoulder, but he does. Mercy follows his gaze before stepping to his side. She tilts her head, waiting.

His heart flutters like a wild bird before asking, “Will you come with me?”

“Of course,” she says, smiling.

Gathering an icy breath in his lungs, Genji tears himself away from the blue in her eyes. He steps forward. His shoe weakly seeps into the fine, powdery snow but he continues with little effort. At his side, Mercy stays with his pace. Her reassurance comes with every look upon her cheeks, warming his shivering chest. She walks with little hindrance, despite being shoeless.

“Aren’t you cold?” he asks as they move around a towering fir. A few pine needles brush Genji’s shoulder with a lingering sap scent.

“Don’t worry about me, Genji. I like the snow,” her voice echoes like a golden bell. A frown touches his mouth, but he doesn’t press again. The freezing air digs its icy fingers into his flesh. Yet, Mercy does not shiver.

Now as Genji thinks about it, he hasn’t seen one icy breath from her mouth.

They continue on an unmarked path through the snow. Walking seems futile, as if he’s leading this woman astray. Perhaps all they’re doing is wandering through a snowy forest, but that can’t be.

The level ground suddenly dips into a short ravine. At the very bottom, a little stream manages to keep from being frozen over. The dark, nearly black, water brings out the dryness in Genji’s mouth.

“Go and drink,” Mercy urges with a gentle tone. “I will leave for only a moment before returning.”

“Please don’t,” he almost panics, turning to her as she steps back. “Don’t leave me.”

Somehow, she’s the only anchor in this entire landscape. Losing her presence may very well tip Genji over the edge. She could be the last thread of sanity he’s clinging to if the rest of this is madness. He has no reason why he’d think so, but he still does.

Her hand falls against his arm, like a snowflake. The heat in her skin soothes the chill in his bones.

“I will be back before you finish your first sip.”

She steps away, leaving him with her blue eyes pressed against the inside of his eyelids. Turning reluctantly, Genji attempts to slow his racing heart before climbing down the ravine. The dark water takes away his attention. The stones making the bed of the stream are black and brown colors, while the water is pure. His dry throat pushes him to kneel in the snow along its bank. The cold rushes into his body more, but it only stalls his thirst.

Cupping his fingers, Genji bites back a shocked breath as he dips them into the rushing stream. The stark, liquid ice threatens to numb his palm before he brings it to his mouth. His slurping is unrestrained. The water pools into his stomach like ice.

“Genji,” a satin voice calls. A desperate need floods his chest at knowing who speaks his name. He turns, relieved. Mercy eases down the slope of the ravine with a bundle of clothing in her arms. As she comes to his side, Genji quickly offers his hand. She takes it as she knees beside him, as warm as when she first pulled him out of the snow.

“This will help with this dread cold,” she speaks. Mercy unfolds a heavy black coat. Pressing it into his hands, Genji takes it. The fabric is thick and already warms his fingers. He stalls however, looking once again to the thin white dress Mercy wears. His lips move but he never speaks.

“I’m not cold, Genji,” she says, guessing his thoughts. “Put on the coat.”

He does. Its immediate relief nearly frees a sigh from his lungs. Humor tugs the corner of her lips as she hands him black gloves, and then boots. He pulls on the articles of clothing beside the little stream.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. Any thought of her being cold suddenly slip from his mind.

Lastly, she holds out an orange scarf. The familiar color stops his heart.

That scarf is his.

Another spark breaks free in his rib cage, bringing with it jolts of fear and slashing pain. A cry echoes in his eardrums before dying away. Did he make that sound?

Where did she get these clothes? How did she find his scarf? Who is she?

“Genji,” her voice breaks through. He blinks slowly. “It’s alright. You’re safe here.”

He blinks again before reaching out. The fabric is still soft, and the color is bright. She presses it gently into his grasp.

“Why do you keep saying that?” he murmurs. “What am I safe from?”

Sympathetically, she shakes her head, refusing again to answer the thousands of questions tearing through his mind. The cold nips at his skin. He doesn’t speak again; he only wraps the scarf around his neck.

It’s a sudden shift. The gray daylight drops into a golden sunset. It splatters deep oranges and fading yellows across the sky, but Genji can’t find the sun. The cold moves to the back of his mind as the thick clothes perform their purpose.

“You can rest now, if you want to,” Mercy speaks like the sun itself, slow but comforting. “I can keep you warm through the night.”

He turns his head, still finding peace within her open face. The golden rays fall against her hair, brightening the soft strands. Genji parts his lips. Inhaling quietly, he looks over her thin, white dress and bare feet.

“I’m tired,” his voice falls into a low, rasp. As if giving up. Whether mental exhaustion or physical exhaustion is beating away at his muscles, he simply wants to be still.

“It’s okay,” she scoots across the little space between them. The snow moves against her dress but never becomes wet or raises goosebumps on her skin. Without thought, Genji unzips his coat. He doesn’t know her but physical contact is all he craves. Concern for the cold night freezing her veins isn’t entirely pushed away. The brief touches she’s given before have pin down the edges of his sanity. Now, his heart flutters ever so slightly as she waits for his approval. When he nods, Mercy slowly slips her arms around his waist.

“Lay down. I’ll keep you during the night,” she whispers like a lullaby.

The weight of her person against his rising chest is akin to a thick, warm blanket. She holds safety and comfort despite the suffocating shadows. In the snow and the thickness of the coat, Genji lays down. Now that he thinks on it, exhaustion works through his core, draining him from the inside out. His eyelids drop as her hands interlock around his back, secure. Her cheek falls against his collarbone.

He’s never been wary of pretty women, or even being close to them. They’ve draped themselves over him before. Their hands have stroke and touched every piece of him, as if admiring a possession. He liked it.

She breathes beside his heart. No frost leaves her lips. Her torso lays alongside his while maintaining a comfortable position of their bodies. Honeysuckle finds his nose, falling off of her hair. A different nervousness floods his chest, as if being too close to a bird that will fly away at the slightest movement.

“Mercy?” he tries to say, but it comes out as a mumble.

A hum begins to rumble softly against his chest. The faint echo of her quiet song pushes his eyelids down completely.

*

_“Hanzo,” Genji harshly whispers through the darkness. “Hanzo.”_

_A grumble answers. Tiny feet pad across the cold floor to reach the shoulder of his older brother and shake him._

_“What?” Hanzo demands, rubbing one eye socket with the heel of his palm._

_“I’m the dragon of the north wind,” he proclaims. Only a faint bit of moonlight slips in through the window, illuminating the young boy’s excited expression._

_“Genji, go back to bed,” he hisses, pushing him away once. Undeterred, Genji lays his hand on his brother’s arm._

_“That makes you the dragon of the south wind!”_

_Nearly growling like such a beast, Hanzo finally sits up._

_“Father’s stories aren’t real, or about us. They’re just stories. Go back to bed.” Her throws a pillow, hitting Genji’s face. He grumbles before picking it back up._

_“Father said they are as real as we want them to be,” he throws it back onto Hanzo’s blanket covered lap. “We’re both dragons, brother.”_

_Defeated, Hanzo sighs._

_“Okay, we’re both dragons. Just go back to bed,” he demands quietly._

_A large grin overtakes the small boy’s face._

*

A gasp rips through his throat. Bolting upright, Genji claws at his chest. Agony brings memories of blood to the front of his mind. Fear ejects itself into his heart, causing his veins to thunder and his arteries to bump rapidly. He can only catch the hopelessness falling into him. The despair in his chest promises no end to his anguish.

“Genji,” Mercy’s steady voice is the only calm among the internal chaos. He latches onto the sound like a drowning man finding a flotation device.

He sees white again, but it’s the snow. The dark stream still trickles by as Mercy kneels beside him. His coat already opens to his shirt. Firm but gentle hands grab his shoulders, forcing him to find her gaze among the panic.

“It’s alright.” Her one hand touches his chest, right above his heart. Like a wave, peace extinguishes the pain buried in his flesh. His panic, his fear, disintegrates.

The peace is only in his chest. Ripping out of her touch, Genji stands away from the worry set around Mercy’s mouth. Swiftly, she brushes away the bangs in her eyes while getting to her feet. Every instinct in his gut trust her, without even knowing why she is called ‘Mercy’ but something is buried deep. The snow hides something. The pine trees block the truth from his view.

“What are you,” he demands, then gestures to his heart, “Why do I keep feeling that?”

Why isn’t he asking more questions? Why isn’t this forest ending? Where did the snow come from? In his entire life, he has only seen mere inches, now this drastic depths of snow banks. His family is somewhere, but not within his reach. He knows where he comes from but has no memory of ending up here.

She holds up her hands, once again as calming as the rising sun but Genji steps away.

“No,” he says, then shouts, “NO!”

He turns and runs over the stream before throwing himself up the ravine. He stumbles but never slows. The cold tries to attack his limbs but his pounding heart combats the static. The snowy air turns his warm breath into fog. Through the trees, everything blurs into white and brown and green.

There has to be something else. The woman is an unknown yet he holds no fear of her. He runs, not away, but to something else. He must find it. The source of the aching and fear inside of his rib cage. What causes such a strain? Why does he feel safe but certain that there is more than this?

He stops dead in his tracks. The snow crunches underneath his boots as he simply stands. Wide eyes refuse to blink for long moments. His icy breath is the only noise among the snow. The pulse in his eardrums is a waning companion.

Mercy.

He whips around. The scene is the same. None of the trees hold markings. He almost chokes when there are no footsteps to be found, as if a swift snow already covered his path.

No.

He lost her.

Absolute destruction ceases his throat, promising the end of everything. The only person he had in this confusion is gone. It’s because of his own doing. Blinking rapidly, he freezes again.

He hasn’t cried for years. He truly is off balance.

Squeezing his eyes shut while gripping his hair, Genji sucks in a sharp breath.

“Mercy!” The desperate call echoes through the trees.

“I’m right here.”

Twisting on his feet, he can hardly breathe at the sight of her standing just a few feet away. Her arms hang loosely at her side. Crinkles in her brow aim directly at him. He steps forward, almost tripping. Fingertips reach blindly before she closes the distance. Her hand catches his. A deep breath sighs into the air, free from his initial panic.

She found him in the snow. Of course she could find him here. He neither saw nor heard her somehow get to him, but he doesn’t care.  

Staring at their clasped hands steadily lowers his heart rate.

“Mercy,” he gasps on a trembling breath.

Her concern never falls away but her smiles is light, warming his skin.

“It’s okay to be confused, and scared,” her voice is only gentle. “It’s going to take time to come to terms with everything. It’s alright, you can take as long as you need.”

The comfort she offers soothes the blockage in his throat. He breathes in, still clinging to her hand like a child, but unable to let go. There is no rush. There is no hurry. He can simply stand here with her for eternity if he wanted to.

“You didn’t leave me?” he quietly asks.

That’s not right. He ran away from her. He left her. He still asks for her reassurance, her comfort. Does she have enough to give him? Will he drain it all away the next time gold takes over the sky?

Mercy doesn’t correct him. Her fingers squeeze his. The pressure is very real as he studies her perfect, half moon fingernails.

“Of course not. If you ask, I will give you privacy, but, I will always watch over you.”

He wants to shake his head, but finds her gaze. Her irises cradle him, rocking away all of his concerns.  

“Why are you watching over me?” his voice cracks.

She steps closer, offering her other hand. He takes it. Their arms fall, like the connecting wires of a bridge between them. Widening his eyes slightly, he notes the differences in their hands. Hers fall into his larger palms and fit in his grasp.

“Because I care about you,” she speaks like mist coming off of a waterfall.

He bows his head. On impulse, his thumbs rub circles along her knuckles. If it bothers her, she doesn’t make it apparent.

“I don’t understand.” It’s as if he’s trying to connect misshapen pieces in a pitch black room.

“I know, but you will.” The skirt of her white dress shifts ever so slight as she nears once again. The snow underneath her toes almost sparkles. “I’ll be with you the whole time.”

Cold air nips at his cheekbones. He draws a deep breath, now willing. Her patience and kindness seeps into his bloodstream with care.

“Can we walk?” he asks, not wanting to stand here for another moment.

“We can do whatever you want,” she says, but is already shifting. Her hands fall from clutching his to resting along his right elbow. Giving his arm, despite feeling as if she’s the one guiding him, he starts walking through the trees once more.

“A moving body will help with moving thoughts,” Mercy gives quietly. Glancing at her, he marvels at the few locks of hair framing her face.

She wants him to figure this out. Whatever this is. The snow and the pine trees hold something important. Even her touch is vital. What must he understand?

They walk in silence. The comfortable constant of strolling through the snow and the warm person at his side makes the air less chilly. There is no pattern or rhythm in the trees, just a never ending view. Grayness still takes over the sky. The threat of snow is the last of his worries.

He dreamed about Hanzo, or, was it just a memory? They were young—he was young. His father’s stories have always kept a secure place in his heart. Age and time showed him the unrealistic tales, but he still believes there’s some underlying meaning. Maybe his father never meant for there to be any.

Genji stops dead. Mercy’s face lifts to his expression as he takes in the grassy meadow set in the middle of the snowy forest, like a mistake, a flaw. They didn’t just come upon it, it appeared suddenly, right before his eyes.

Loosening his hold from Mercy, he steps forward once. Her hand slips away like a warm breeze. Clasping her palms together, a reassuring smile waits on her lips when he looks back. She doesn’t go with him.

Impressing the image of her thin white dress against the background of dark brown bark, Genji faces the lush grass. It’s inconsistent, wrong. There is no logic to why a green meadow remains uncovered by snow.

The foot he presses onto the grass is wary, as if approaching a trap. The air still holds a brisk bite as he approaches the center of the meadow. Erected upright, as if belonging, old arcade machines flicker bright blue and red screens, awaiting a player. Beside one game on the grass rests a pachimari plushy.

How many hours did he spend trying to beat his own high score? How many times did he ditch his brother and family duties in favor of fruitlessly playing a game? Why does he see this now, in this quiet winter?

Crouching, Genji reaches out to the plushy. His throat constricts as the soft felt comes into his grasp. A desperate longing plunges into his heart, as if missing his brother as a little child.

He gasps against the onslaught of fear and panic sparking out of nothing. It rushes over his chest once again. The pachimari in his hand suddenly crumbles into, powdery snow. Likewise, the arcade machines collapse, like ancient buildings tumbling to the ground as white snowflakes.

Before he can call her name, she’s beside him, kneeling. Gently, she touches his chest through his shirt. Her palm stays against his sternum, fighting back the mysterious aching until peace falls upon his shoulders once more. He breathes in, nearly gasping for the sweet air.

“Can’t you take it?” he begs, touching her arm for support. It keeps trying to suffocate him. The agony threatens to drag him under but she keeps pulling him back, pulling him out of the snow.

“I can make it bearable but I can’t take it away entirely.” Her voice is an apology. The inability to break this curse almost threatens her with sorrow. Composed, she keeps a gentle gaze upon him.

“Why not?” his whisper is almost silent.

“Because we must feel everything to feel anything.”

He shakes his head, refusing the reality. The pain is gone but it will come back.

“I don’t want this,” he almost cries before collapsing forward. She catches him, unaffected by his weight or sudden presence. Her arms move around him, encompassing his person in a more definitive safety. It’s pathetic, but he craves nothing more than her person. He buries his face against her shoulder, wanting to flee everything.

“We must suffer to know joy,” her gentle voice falls against his hair. “Truly living with everything, even the terrible things, is what creates life. We cannot exist in one state.”

His eyes scrunch close. His fingers cling to her dress as the sudden snow around them chills his breath. Her gentle embrace is steady.

“Is this place meant to be peaceful?”

Her answer is immediate, “Yes. Your conflict is only within yourself.”

He lifts his eyes slowly, as if burden. Meeting his conflict, Mercy already knows the struggle happening in his chest. Her pink cheeks display the cold, yet she does not shiver. He’s not alone.

This peace isn’t steady within him. Mercy is peaceful. Her hands heal but can’t truly take away what’s inside of him. Why does he reminisce? Why could he touch the pachimari for only a moment? Why does the pain keep returning?

Her hand lifts from his chest. Like the brush of a feather, her fingertips touch his cheek. He stills under her tender hold, nearly breathless.

“It’s alright, Genji,” she speaks in a hushed whisper. “Sleep now. You’ll understand soon.”

His lips part but he doesn’t speak. Leaning forward, she hovers for only a moment before pressing her lips to his forehead. Mercifully, Genji erupts with calmness. It flows through his veins along his blood until he’s only resting his cheek against her shoulder once again.

Her arms shift to cradle him as he sleeps.

*

_“We are not boys anymore. We don’t get to play games.” Hanzo is as firm as the tie at the end of his long hair. Strands still fall into his face, framing his serious cheekbones. He kneels at a table, while Genji stands in the doorway. He almost slipped away unnoticed, but knows that Hanzo was up all night waiting for him. This was inevitable._

_“You’re the young master, brother,” Genji doesn’t mean the bite in the familiar word, but it still comes. “The clan is your duty, not mine.”_

_“You are a part of this clan. Our father’s clan.” His sharp eyes finally turn on him, gracing Genji’s hungover appearance. His nose wrinkles at the smell of alcohol and too sweet perfume coming off of his skin. “You need to take your role in it seriously. The elders are not pleased with you foolishly wasting your time outside of the castle.”_

_Genji sneers, using one arm to lean on the doorway._

_“They’re never pleased with me,” Genji half growls. “You’re the one they faun over and treat as the true son.”_

_A tremor nearly rolls through Hanzo, but he contains it with a brief closing of his eyes. Unclenching his fists, he looks back to Genji. There is something immovable in his dark irises._

_“Become more active in the clan, or there will be consequences.”_

_He laughs. It’s ragged and breathy, but he still throws his head back. Consequences are not known to the sons of the Shimada Clan. He has no interest in being a drug lord or a black market weapons dealer._

_It was always Hanzo’s passion to do as he was told._

_The anger in his face stays even after Genji turns away._

*

The faint edge of pain pokes at his ribs, but a soft hand is already resting on his chest. Nothing overwhelms him or drives him towards the edge. Mercy’s palm is warm against his heart as she stares into the trees, lost in her own thoughts. Without her, fear would have dove into his lungs.

He eases open his eyelids little by little, finding the faintest light of yellow behind Mercy’s shoulders. Tips of white feathers seems to peer out into the air, hovering just behind her. Near startled, she inhales quickly at finding his eyes staring up at her. He blinks, and the light and feathers are gone. It is only Mercy in her thin white dress, holding him in her lap.

“Mercy…?” he croaks, before stopping to clear his throat. Mist still forms when he breathes out. White snow surrounds them in quietness.

“Genji,” she greets. “It’s getting better, isn’t it?”

He’s only partly sure that he knows what she speaks of, but he answers, “Yes. Thank you.”

“It’s not just my doing,” her steady voice corrects. Nothing hints in her frame that she’s uncomfortable with his weight on her thighs. In fact, her arms cross over his shoulders. Both of her hands rest against his chest, as if ready to compress and restart his heart. As if he was never a stranger.

“You are beginning to understand,” her own hope bleeds into his skin. “There is still much for you to come to terms with, but you have all the time you need. I’m with you.”

There are questions that can’t be answered yet, but they still wait on his tongue. The need to get up and move is lost. Genji’s view is more than enough. The tree tops and the gray sky, still the same, are kind. The blonde ends of Mercy’s hair are pretty to his eyes.

“We can stay like this, if you’d like,” she speaks. Can she read his thoughts?

He gives a grateful nod, no longer nervous of laying upon her lap. She is comfortable, too. Somehow, he knows this.

No snow falls, but the passage of time seems to trickle by. Snow flurries never kick up, and the wind never pulls at the needles in the pine trees but a comfortable sense stays in his mind. This place is safe with this woman. For half a heartbeat, he never wishes to leave.

“Mercy?”

“Yes?”

“What were you thinking about… when I was waking up?” Genji almost asks why he saw a yellow light and feathers, but his tongue refuses.

Pondering shapes her lips as she tilts her chin down. Her gaze is distant while a decision is made. Blinking once, her fingers shift ever so slightly against his chest. One hand gently fixes one end of his orange scarf. A thoughtful hum leaves her throat.

“I was thinking about a boy at a koi fish pond. He was on the dock, kneeling down to try and catch one pure orange fish.”

His attention is only on her soothing voice. As if he’s falling upon satin after a long, hard day. Her eyes lift with a hidden joy.

“His mother wasn’t paying attention,” she continues, “The boy kept leaning and leaning until he began to fall, but someone caught him. The poor thing would have drown, but he didn’t. There was much more the world needed from him.”

Genji suddenly stills. His mother had warned him about falling in. The koi fish were beautiful to his five year old self. He wanted to catch the orange one so desperately that he went out of view from his mother.

He leaned too far, and lost his balance. His hand had just begun to crash into the surface of the pond when arms wrapped around his waist. The next moment, he was sitting on the dock, trying to stop his tears from the sudden scare.

Now that he thinks on it, he remembers a thin, white dress. The pale, slender arms of a woman had set him back onto the dock. He believe it was his mother for years, even though she ran up to him afterwards, terrified of how close he was to the water.

“That was you.” A statement. An understanding. Mercy’s lips tug upwards.

His jaw lowers, lost in the connection of the past and present. Mercy’s hand still rests on his chest. Hesitantly, he reaches out to touch the back of her hand with one finger, before lowering his entire palm onto her skin.

Words fail him. He swallows and lifts his gaze. The white gold of her hair is framed by the gray sky. Blue, intelligent irises shimmer with tenderness.

As if taking the blossom of a flower, Genji’s hand wraps around Mercy’s. She squeezes his fingers. Her eyelashes fall to brush the top of her cheeks. If the illusion of the snowy forest is doing anything to his eyes, it’s that it makes the softest shade of pink touch her cheeks. His fingertips twitch with the desire of knowing how soft her face would feel.

No snowflakes fall from the sky, but a sudden anxiety whispers of being buried in the snow once again. Hesitation takes over Genji’s center. He gets to his feet as if unsure of being able to support his own weight. She rises beside him. Asking if it’s alright to hold her hand as they walk, Mercy nods. The motion swings her ponytail. Powdery white sticks to his clothes as he begins to walk without direction. Mercy doesn’t redirect or guide him elsewhere, and moving is all that he can think to do besides stare at her cheekbones. The warmth of her hand stays in between his fingers.

He simply waits, clinging to the anchor she provides. The pain, the bone deep sense of panic must be nearing again. Her fingertips will wash it away. Although peaceful, the forest only hides what he’s meant to discover.

Genji doesn’t know how to brace for what he’ll find. A part of him doesn’t want to discover what could possibly shatter this cold paradise with this beautiful woman. Fear climbs inside his chest, but it’s not the specific set that makes agony arise in his throat.

A golden sunset pops into his mind. Halting, Genji clasps Mercy’s one hand between his own, desperate. Nearly bowing his head, he can taste the snow in his open mouth.

“I don’t want to sleep,” he almost begs. He doesn’t know why he uses the word ‘sleep’.

The delicate arches of her eyebrows lift, either with concern or hope. Genji cannot say.

“Close your eyes, Genji,” she whispers. “Don’t be afraid.”

Isn’t that all that’s left? The lingering negative emotions trying to break through Mercy’s presence is only fear. Genji despises it, hides from it. It never spills across his face. How can he embrace courage now when it feels as solid as fog?

Unable to refuse her, he closes his eyes. Her gentle, curling fingers disappear in a breath. In a rush, he blinks and almost stumbles at the abrupt emptiness surrounding himself. The trees are empty shadows. The snow mocks him with white diamonds.

“Mercy!” he cries out. Panic only waits for he knows she watches over him.

He turns around. The cold ground mocks him. He turns around again, and calls out her name.

“No,” he mutters, then, “No! Mercy! Please!”

His voice doesn’t echo against the muted, colorless scenery. His hand falls to his chest, already sensing the crippling pain. It’s ready to pounce, to take over his veins.

‘Don’t be afraid’, she told him. Genji only feels such binding restraints clamp onto his lungs.

Stumbling forward, he grasps blindly for her hand. She wouldn’t leave him alone. He didn’t wish her away. Mercy. Can’t he give her that? Is he taking too much by demanding her gentle frame in his gaze?

Maybe. Maybe.

In his senseless half walk, half run, he faces a snow bank. The snow is piled up. Three, dark pine trees loom behind it, fencing it off. Protruding out of the white powder, the hilt of a blue tinted sword glints in the muted sunlight.

His eyes are like water, and the hilt a freezing surface. He can’t move away, even if he wished to. The snow gives no comfort as he steps forward.

That is Hanzo’s sword.

_Mercy._

Where is her kind face? Where are her supportive words, easing the dark matter in his chest?

He’s awake, but he knows that daydreams will crack at whatever lies underneath the snow. His limbs shamble forward, working on autopilot.

Numb fingers wrap around the hilt. Familiar and alien all at once. Tugging it free fails and Genji’s brow crinkles. It must be caught on something. He falls to his knees like a man offering a prayer and scoops the snow away with one hand. Working like a machine, the white powder slowly gives away to a hard surface.

Genji stills. An orange scarf like the exact one he wears peeks up through the snow. The opposite of buried treasure. Blood begins to bubble out from behind the scarf, as if a miniature volcano is hidden underneath.

All at once, pain rushes his torso. Nothing visible takes over his skin, but severing, pulsing agony erupts in his lungs. He no longer breathes out frosty mist, but rather, chokes with sobs. On impulse he scoops one more mound of snow away.

Buried around white, his cold, pale face stares back up at him. The corpse’s eyelids are closed. Snowflakes dot the dark lashes almost touching the top of his cheeks. Genji breathes out, releasing the sword. Refusal breaks into his mind like a chant.

He can’t be seeing his own dead body. Something is wrong.

The taste of blood seeps onto his tongue. The sharp reflection of light upon a steel blade blinds him. Unable to do little else but give in, Genji closes his eyes.

*

_“This is my honor. This is your honor,” Hanzo speaks. He stands before Genji. He only wears his orange training uniform. The longer locks of his dark hair are tied in a low ponytail. A different color leaks into Hanzo’s irises. It’s tainted with resolve, and coldness._

_“Enough of this, Hanzo,” Genji’s voice is brittle, on the edge of cracking. He refuses to let it. Their arguing has gone on long enough tonight. The thought of drinking something strong promises him refuge. The weight of dealing with the clan, his brother, is thrown off of his shoulders. He cannot be crushed by it any longer._

_Hanzo’s taunt hand wraps around the blue tinted hilt of his sword. An angry noise in Genji’s throat escapes as he turns away._

_“It is for my duty to the clan that I do this.”_

_Metal rings free from a sheath. His sword isn’t on his person. He never finishes the motion of turning his head to look back at his brother. Pain sweeps into his skin like a curt wind, cutting down from his right shoulder to his left, lower ribs. A sharp enough blade will not slow on flesh or bones._

_Red splatters the tapestry hanging from the wall. A tear arches up from the corner, never having caught Genji’s attention before. A sound leaves his throat, a cry of pain, or help. His fall is a slow, downwards motion. Inaudible, he begs for his brother by name._

_He begs again._

_Iron floods his throat, forcing its way out of his cracked mouth. His body becomes still, no longer twitching or squirming against the pain. Both of his legs, and right arm are lost in the chaos of torment._

_His eyes are open against the cold floor. He sputters and chokes on red. Fleeting, haunting footsteps leave him alone to die._

_There is no more begging, or whispering, or murmuring. He is trapped to the pain that slowly cools his flesh and dives after his heart._

_His eyelids stay wide open, but darkness begins to seep into his vision. A black fog promises the end. Genji resists, afraid of what it brings._

_Before it engulfs him entirely, a white, blinding light enters. The darkness is chased by the brightness. If he could have done nothing else in that last moment but reach out towards the light, he would have._

_Hands wrap around his torso. It’s as if he was aflame, but dropped into a cool, calming pool. The pain disappears as swiftly as it had come. White feathers flutter at the corner of his eyes. He’s lifted into a gentle, kind embrace._

_A voice like satin whispers his name._

*

He eases his eyes open, as if waking up from a Sunday afternoon nap. The motion of his lungs are natural, but no frosty mist touches his breath. Thirst and hunger no longer exist. The sword in his grasp slowly crumbles to white powder. There is no snowbank from which his corpse hides underneath. Genji kneels in what is no longer cold, finally understanding.

Pain is only a memory. It serves as a harsh reminder. A fragile hand touches his chest in silent wonder.

Anger presents itself, but it doesn’t infect his veins. His brother. Hanzo. Hanzo, what has he done? The sword in his hands was swift with his duty, and his burden.

A forgiving, yellow light blooms upon the snow. His heartbeat slows. Turning to the source, one that he already knows, Genji tilts his face to bask in the heavenly glow.

She stands in what should be the cold. Her thin dress drapes her slender frame as her hands are held out, palms up. Compassion colors her cheekbones. She waits patiently, despite the subtle urge in her fingertips to reach out and take him.

Somehow getting to his feet, a softness overcomes his already weak heart. Genji murmurs her name.

Feathers of gentle white lift behind Mercy’s shoulder. Her entire form emits a heavenly, golden light as he reaches out to her. First, their fingers interlock. Every terrible thing that has damage his soul disappears. Then, their arms slip around the other’s form, tugging each other close like the finishing pull of a knot. The weight of her hugging his neck lets Genji breathe. He tightens his hold around her waist. Pressing his cheek against her own, another whisper leaves his awed lips.

“You’re an angel.”

Mercy’s voice falls against his eardrum like a morning shower.

“I’m your guardian.” A thousand, shattering crystal glasses slip from her sorrowful lips. “I couldn’t interfere with the actions your brother made.”

His arms tighten around her.

“My life is over, isn’t it?” he speaks, surprisingly peaceful with the implication himself.

“No,” she shakes her head. Pulling away, she keeps him at arm’s length. Her hands slide against his shoulders, holding him steady. “This is not the end.”

His brow crinkles, both over her simultaneous grief and joy, and what more could he possible have.

“I don’t understand,” he looks over himself. There are no slices or blood or pain left buried in his skin. “Is this heaven? Is this my soul?”

A kind smile moves her mouth. She touches his cheek.

“This is you. You don’t have a soul. You are a soul.”

Just like she. A true being of heavenly light. It doesn’t feel right, to place himself in the category she resides in.

“Am I dead?”

Hanzo’s cold expression appears in every glance at the snow. The cold air no longer attacks Genji’s skin, leaving him to enjoy the quiet sanctuary with the woman. Anger tries to bleed into his flesh.

“For the time being, yes.”

Questions overflow from his eyes. Her reassurance comes with everlasting patience and gentle holdings.

“That doesn’t make sense. Why else would you be here?” Isn’t this where angels belong? In heaven?

“You must make a choice, Genji.” Her smile fades. The shine in her eyes reflects the hardship of his task. Her empathy spills over his skin. The urge to pull her close again almost overwhelms his weak will.

“You can chose to go back, or you can chose to stay.”

“Go back?” Comprehension escapes his thin skull. “ _Can_ I go back?”

Her soft thumbs rub along his collarbones. He breathes out quietly.

“That is not the question,” she says.

He holds her expression. Her mere eyes alone sooth his trembling mouth and buckling legs. She is merciful enough to let him have this.

Go back to his broken, bloody body? Back to his forsaken family and his fratricidal brother? Back to endless nights and meaningless contacts with others? There is nothing to go back to. This place is beautiful. Peace settles into his body like his own blood. There is no want, only comfort.

If he goes back, he will leave her. Will he even keep the sacred memories of her?

To face Hanzo again… To see his expression having knowing he killed his own brother. He couldn’t bear it. There is nothing he can say. The damage is already done. Genji can’t pretend or fake this peace towards Hanzo. Rage still waits on the edges of his person, ready to be invited inside. The snowy paradise and Mercy’s touch is guarding him from such afflictions.

Can he forgive Hanzo? Does he see any future where he moves on from his brother’s attack?

Does he want to never grow, and learn more, and become old? Can he leave that world with the little good he’s ever given?

Can he leave her?

“Genji,” she whispers. Ruffling feathers shift in the air. Their warmth descends upon his backside, securing them in a protective embrace. Her cheeks are pink as she gentle holds his gaze. “You don’t have to decide now. Take all the time you need.”

A shudder takes over his throat.

“Will you stay with me?”

Her palm cradles his cheek with a soft spoken, “Yes.”

Quietly, he stands with her. The snow stays still as he sorts his countless thoughts and memories. His brother is a constant companion, shifting between best friend and mortal enemy. The gentle hands of the angel keep him warm and calm. Her feathers never lift until he asks her if they can walk. Again, the anchoring of her fingers keeps Genji centered. On impulse, he lifts their intertwined hands and kisses her knuckles. She smiles softly.

When he can’t walk anymore, for the simply want of it disappears, they rest. Mercy takes his head in her lap. Soft fingertips trail through his hair, around his ears and along the bones of his face. When he closes his eyes, without the burning visions, she brushes against his eyelashes.

He says her name, simply to hear her say his. There is no light or darkness, just gray overcast. Night leaves them be. Nothing shifts. Nothing rises. Nothing falls. Genji breathes despite knowing that his air doesn’t turn icy.

Lifting his eyelids, Mercy’s blues already hold him.

“Did you chose me?”

His simple, few words don’t need any explanation. He doesn’t completely understand how he came to have a guardian like she.

“Yes,” she says.

“Why?”

The golden light falling from her feathers shift ever so slightly. Something that he has yet to know gleams in her eyes.

“We chose each other a long time ago.”

His brow crinkles in the wonder of her statement. Is that why he feels unnaturally close to her despite having no recollection of her person? Is that why peace fills him? He knows her, but doesn’t. Their existence together go beyond his mortal time.

Perhaps a connection has always been between them, from the moment they came to be. Genji hardly dares to believe someone like her could be meant for someone like him. Yet, her soft touch makes him believe he was meant to kiss her cheeks and brush back her hair.

“You will remember all if you chose to stay,” she whispers, brushing back a lock from his forehead. “But, I see so much more life ahead of you, Genji.”

He finds her hand. She lets him take it in his grasp, like a perfect nook to grab onto while navigating up a rocky cliff face. The half moons of her pink fingernails fill his vision. Pressing her knuckles to his mouth, he holds her there.

“What do you think I should do?” he murmurs against her skin.

“It is your choice, Genji.”

She stays gentle.

Squeezing his eyes shut, two different paths open up before him. This place is peaceful, but static. All he keeps is his memories and knowledge. Maybe there is more if he accepts his death, but, it could only be a further reflection of this.

He has her if he stays. He has her kind palms and soft voice.

If he goes back, he has the chance of a full life. He keeps the guardian angel’s protection. He does not see or know her, but he has her wings against his back. He could see Hanzo. Forgiveness is a far away concept, but maybe one day, he could hold it in his hands. He could give it to his brother.

Hanzo is without his brother now.

“Why should I go back?” he asks honestly, still clinging to her hand.

“Mortal life is a precious gift but it is a difficult one to receive,” her voice is simple, open. “I want you to be happy, Genji.”

One choice begins swimming in his brain, trying to hook into his thoughts permanently. What she says is true. He would be able to continue on but it would cost both pain and joy. It would cost everything to feel anything.

Hasn’t he already paid that price? Can’t he pay it again?

Rising, Genji faces Mercy as he kneels before her. The golden light from her wings frames her in a gentle window. Ruffled feathers lift, ready.

He kisses her knuckles once again. Gently shifting open her hand with his thumb, his lips touch the ends of her fingertips. A tender warmth fills her cheeks as he moves to her palm. He holds his dot of love there, enjoying the slight motion of her fingernails against his face.

He pulls away, lowering her hand to his lap. His gaze locks onto her light eyelashes.

“Would you like me to stay?”

He can give up his entire world for her.

Her expression falls, but only to heavily consider the words on her tongue. Squeezing his hand, she lifts her chin.

“I have missed being able to feel you like this, but, I would be filled with the greatest sorrow knowing that I kept you from a full life.”

Her eyes shimmer, like diamonds upon a pure blue lake. Leaning forward, she crosses an invisible threshold. Genji stills, terrified and eager for what comes next.

Like the touch of a flower petal, her lips fall against his cheek. He breathes out. The smallest sound falls from her mouth as she pulls away.

“You know what you want to chose,” she states. Perhaps she simply knows him so well that the answer displays itself upon his face.

On a mournful impulse, his fingers tighten around her hand.

“I want to live, Mercy,” he almost whimpers, “but I want you, too.”

Peacefulness only holds meaning with her. Warmth is all that fills his bones when she touches his skin. How can he easily walk back to the cold and chaotic life he once held? How can he let go of her hand?

“Genji,” her satin voice fills his heart. “You will always have me.”

There is nothing more that he can believe but that. He reaches out. Fear and content wraps his arms around her, pulling her into him. She slips into his hold as if their rib cages are two halves of the puzzle.

He breathes in the honeysuckle of her hair. Her cheek presses against his collarbone. Moving carefully, her palms press against his back, soothing the dread in his spine.

“I don’t want to leave you,” his voice cracks.

“I know,  _liebling_ ,” she whispers. “You don’t have to now. Only when you’re ready.”

Eternity could hold them here, comfortable in the other’s embrace. He clutches at it for precious moments. This is safe. No harm can come upon her or him. There is no need, or suffering. There is only the precious quiet in the snow around them.

His clinging becomes like a vice. Her body is a settling anchor. The echo of her voice keeps his thoughts steady. A constant, burning sensation spreads throughout his heart at not knowing her in the other existence.

Letting go terrifies him. To let go of his life, and let it end as a murdered victim of his brother, sends rage and grief into his throat. Releasing his hold from her, and leaving her gentle touch, fills him with the unknown, and longing.

He can come back to her. He just won’t have her entirely throughout the rest of his days. Not in the way he wants to.

She will still be with him, watching over him.

Quietly withdrawing, he looks over her face. The details of her eyes, and the gentle color of her eyelashes are imprinted into his skull. Pink and love touches her cheeks. Bangs almost hide a part of her face. Her mouth holds like she’s readying to purse her lips. Blue, like a calm ocean, look back, taking him in as much as he takes in her.

He touches his forehead to hers. She breathes softly, mingling their frost-less breath. Their hands cover each other’s backs, unable to let go just yet.

Even this eternity is not enough. He wants more. He needs her. The touch of her skin is a kind memory.

His heart already knows his truth. Mercy does too.

“Close your eyes, just for a moment,” she whispers. Her wings spread out ever so slightly across her back.

As he does so, golden light bleeds through his eyelids, reminding him of the sun. Genji breathes out once. Opening his eyes, she’s still holding him. Her expression is a peaceful storm of love, sorrow, and strength.

They kneel in a large room. He remembers it like the back of his hand. The tapestry is still stained with red along the tear at the very corner. He only peeks from the edges of his vision to the body lying still. A small pool of dark liquid takes over its resting place.

Her fingertips gently tilt his chin to look back to her. He keeps her gaze, refusing to let the calm of her irises slip away when he returns.

They stand. She guides him forward, holding his arms like glass while keeping him from staring at the scene. He will see enough gore in this life, but not now.

All too soon, dread falls upon his shoulders. Kneeling, she still touches his arms with support. Genji’s lips part, but no sound comes out for a moment. The body is just beside him. The end of their time is coming much too quickly.

“Do you love me?”

He does not ask out of suspicion, or doubt. His question is only to settle his racing heart.

“With my entire being,” she gives.

Certainly she must know his heart’s intent, for he does not have to say it back. Her brow crumbles for only a moment at letting him go, too. Genji touches her cheek, refusing such a sad expression in her beautiful eyes.

“Mercy,” he whispers.

She smiles. Her fingers slowly touch the back of his neck, supporting him as she lowers him back. The delicate imprints of her hands settle his rib cage, even in the uncertainty of everything.

“I’ll be watching over you.” Her voice is a lullaby. It echoes in his mind gently.

He knows this one truth, if nothing else. Before he falls entirely, before she lowers him back into his own body, he reaches for her. She leans down, pressing her lips against his for a small infinity of time. The taste of honeysuckle brings impressions that he doesn’t get to know yet.

Her goodbye, for now.

He knows darkness, and her touch as it slowly slips away. He returns, and breathes again. Pain and agony take over what was peaceful and safe. He doesn’t move, unable to cry out.

This life is a precious gift, but it is a difficult one to receive. He still takes it from her soft hands. When he wakes, he will remember, but he will never see white feathers. Her peaceful presence will come to him. He will receive her comfort when all seems lost. Her guidance will send him to one who will give a new peace to his being. Again and again, the angel’s protection remains over him in the fiercest of moments.

He will never be alone. Her pink cheeks is all he keeps himself for. Her longing is deep, but she stays content with his happiness in this life. Time and age will slowly catch up to Genji. He’s not afraid of the end. He knows that their eternity has yet to begin.

Death will not part them, but reunite their souls.


End file.
